


only gets better when it hurts

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they see each other after the hiatus is officially announced is a mistake.  Andy told him that Pete wasn't ready, that it was too soon, but he hadn't listened.  He never listens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	only gets better when it hurts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlpearl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlpearl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [[podfic] only gets better when it hurts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/459985) by [Andeincascade (Ande)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ande/pseuds/Andeincascade). 



> Written for my beloved girlpearl's birthday! Happy birthday, love. So glad you are in my life.
> 
> Title from _Dance Miserable_ by Patrick Stump.
> 
> Beta by the delicious Andeincascade.

1\. December 2009

The first time they see each other after the hiatus is officially announced is a mistake. Andy told him that Pete wasn't ready, that it was too soon, but he hadn't listened. He never listens.

But he's worried about Pete; the silence echoes loudly and all Patrick can hear are the whispered recriminations.

They meet at a restaurant, someplace off the beaten track. Pete shows up in sunglasses and hunched in a hoodie, arms crossed defensively across his chest. Patrick makes an aborted attempt to _touch_ but Pete just flinches away.

Patrick keeps his hands on his knees after that, clutching tightly.

He tries to talk, asks about Panic, about Gabe, about Travie, but Pete just shrugs and pushes his food around on his plate.

Once they're outside in the cold Chicago air, he tries to hug Pete, just needing to feel his warmth, his _life_. Patrick crowds him against the wall and he can't help himself, he kisses Pete, and for one brief, brilliant moment, it's like nothing's changed.

Patrick _wants_ that, so much.

And then Pete shoves him away and before he can stammer out an apology, Pete's gone, striding down the street, anger clear in the set of his shoulders.

2\. March 2011

Patrick gets all of his Pete-related news through the grapevine. He can almost trace the lines of communication: from Pete to Mikey and Gabe, then to Travie and Brendon and Beckett and Ryan, which leads to Joe and Andy and Bob. Then to him.

Which is why it's such a shock to hear it from Ashlee, a brief message on the answering machine in his empty apartment. _It's over_ , she says, and Patrick plays it over and over and over, listening to the nuances of those two words, trying to discern love, regret, doubt, pain.

All he hears is the racing of his own thoughts.

They meet again; Patrick insists on it, because the tabs are merciless and they can taste blood in the water. They're documenting Pete's fall with a flurry of high resolution pictures, splashed in the pages of gossip magazines.

He hates himself, because he wants, needs to see for himself, with his own eyes, how gutted Pete is, how badly he's bleeding. It's a form of penance, to watch Pete hurting so much and not be able to do a damn thing about it.

It's worse than he thought, and Patrick can't help himself; he reaches out and Pete doesn't even have it in him to flinch away from Patrick's greedy fingers.

It's strangely unsatisfying, touching Pete.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, and it's just not enough.

3\. April 2011

In the minutes before he goes out, Patrick is light-headed, nauseous, and dizzy. He hasn't felt like this since the first Fall Out Boy show and he feels ridiculously betrayed. It's supposed to get easier. He sits in the green room with his head between his knees and just _breathes_ for a bit.

This is terrifying, because he doesn't have Pete's relentless sense of optimism driving them forward, keeping them going out of sheer momentum. Worse, there is no _them_ ; it's just Patrick. It's exactly what he wanted, what he asked for. What Pete gave him, regardless of the cost to himself.

There's a ticket at the box office with Pete's name on it and Patrick left a message—or maybe a few—on Pete's phone, but he has no idea if Pete will even show up.

He can't do this by himself; he knows that. He can't go out in front of all these people, he's not ready. He needs—

The stage manager pushes him out and the lights are blinding and hot. He's frozen for a long moment, unsure and very close to panic. He can't see any of the faces in the audience, and the ones on stage are still new, too new.

He closes his eyes and all he can see is the look on Pete's face, the way he'd paled and gasped in surprise at Patrick's words. _I need a break from you._ Pete had looked raw, lips pressed together to hold back the words that Patrick knew he wanted to say.

Pete paid for Patrick's chance to be here. Paid for it in blood and tears; Patrick wasn't going to let that sacrifice go to waste.

He steps up to the microphone and smiles blindly at the crowd. "Thanks for coming out!"

At the end of the show, he catches a familiar shape out of the corner of his eye, hoodie and sunglasses, but when Patrick looks for him, he's gone.

4\. January 2012

He's only met Bebe once, and he knew from the minute he saw her that she was destined for bigger things than the Black Cards. She had talent and ambition, and was young enough to want _more_. Pete probably knew it, too, but Pete has a hard time letting go.

The press eats it up, ghoulishly, trumpeting headlines about broken dreams and bitter feuds. They call Pete washed up, a has-been, so two years ago and it infuriates him, because Pete is nothing but shining talent.

Patrick calls, leaves messages, texts, but Pete's pretty much incommunicado with the entire planet, which is just unnatural. He surfaces for a moment, tweets _you cant be missed unless youre gone_ and it sets off all of Patrick's alarm bells. He breaks down and calls Gabe, who gently talks him out of his panic, reassures Patrick that Pete is fine, with friends, safe.

He can't get what happened before out of his mind, when Pete pulled away from every human connection he had and drove himself to an empty parking lot. . .

Sleep eludes him and he scours the internet, waiting for recent pictures to surface and when he finally crashes, it's with his fingers brushing against Pete's face on the screen.

5\. February 2012

It's the culmination of what's turned into both the best and worst year of his life. The music. . .it's everything he's ever loved, everything he's ever wanted to create. The shows are great, touring with Panic and Foxy is fun, they're great guys, and the fans that show up are enthusiastic and excited and involved.

The critics are. . .brutal. Not just about the music, but about him, too. Every interview, every bad review, every time someone tells him that he should just quit fucking around and get back together with Fall Out Boy chips away his confidence, at his happiness. He keeps smiling through it all, but he hates it. _Hates_ it.

Somehow, he ends up sitting in front of the computer, letting everything flow from brain to fingers. He spews his bitterness across the internet in a stunt more reminiscent of Pete than himself, but afterward, he feels lighter, freer. 

And then his phone starts ringing.

After two days, he turns off the phone, unplugs the computer and disconnects his doorbell. He curls up on his couch with a blanket and waits for the furor over his blog post to die down.

6\. Afterward

He wakes, and his head is cradled in someone's lap, fingers carding through his hair. Before he can panic, something _clicks_ in the back of his head and—"Pete?" His glasses are on the coffee table, so he just squints up.

"Hey, Trick, " Pete says softly. He looks too serious.

Patrick feels off-balance, confused. It's been months since he's heard from Pete, let alone seen him; he's almost gotten used to the Pete-shaped hole in his life. "How did you get in?" He should pull away, figure out what's going on, but he's too comfortable and the way Pete's petting him feels good.

"You gave me a key." There's the barest hint of laughter in his voice, and Patrick just rubs his cheek against the soft denim of Pete's jeans. "Patrick—" There's a long pause, like Pete's trying to choose his words carefully. It's uncharacteristic, un-Pete-like. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Patrick shuts his eyes and shrugs. "You had your own thing going on. Didn't think you needed to deal with all of my baggage, too."

"Trick," Pete sighs. "You should have said something."

"Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy," Patrick sings softly.

"Patrick. I wish you had told me how miserable you were."

Patrick shrugs. "I didn't want to disappoint you."

"Fuck that. You're the best friend I've ever had, the other half of my fucking soul. You're also the most fucked up, passive-aggressive asshole ever, but that doesn't mean I don't love you."

"Hey, thanks," Patrick says, trying to be offended and failing. He rolls onto his back, so he can look at Pete. "I've missed you."

Pete nods. "Missed you too, Trick."

"Kiss me?" he breathes and Pete searches his face for a long moment before dipping down to brush an awkward sideways kiss against Patrick's mouth. 

It's the first kiss they've shared in _years_ , since they decided they made better friends than lovers. It feels like their kisses always do: sweet and hot and absolutely necessary.

Patrick wonders how he managed to live without them for so long.

-fin-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] only gets better when it hurts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/459985) by [Andeincascade (Ande)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ande/pseuds/Andeincascade)




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